


Structuralism

by PunsandPoses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Romance Novel, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-22 02:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsandPoses/pseuds/PunsandPoses
Summary: There are so many components to a kiss, so many different styles and techniques that can make one's heart race. Castiel knows nothing and yet everything, and it scares him all the same.Or, in which Castiel learns things about himself, critiques romance novels, and learns what it is to kiss Dean Winchester.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 14





	Structuralism

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck that finale.
> 
> Rated E for Everything Is Okay In This Universe For Once.

There are many things that come together for a kiss.

Namely, lips, but that's only a small part of the equation. There's love and lust, which could be separate or entwined, although Castiel has never once had a kiss sustained only by lust. Every kiss he has bestowed is so full of love that it makes him ache. Although he hasn't bestowed many.

Rationally, however, he knows that every emotion he feels is due to a human vessel, Jimmy Novak's now vacant body, to be precise. Angels feel emotion, yes, but in such a muted palette that whenever the surges hit him, he's breathless.

He knows the formulation of love. It starts with dopamine, with pure surges that get you high off the hits. It's the exhilaration, the newness of the companion. And eventually, it begins to relax. Oxytocin comes in.

And that is when love truly starts to develop, because humans fundamentally want companionship, want someone to trust and confide in and be there. Oxytocin is long term, is something that doesn't provide quite the high, but it's there. It's in the easy assurance of love.

Angels were never quite given the luxury of feeling so purely. Castiel wasn't built to be like humans, because he wasn't part of God's most beloved children. Sometimes, he idly wonders how an omnipotent, immortal being can feel love, but it's God, so one can't exactly make rules surrounding Him.

But the seraphim were incomplete. That is a revelation that took him a while to get over. He's fundamentally flawed in his construction, because for all his semi-immortality can do, he is still not quite living in his purest state, because he cannot love like Dean Winchester can. 

It's a painful realization to face. And Castiel wishes, with all his muted, horribly angelic emotions, that he could love Dean Winchester as profoundly as he possibly could.

-.-.-

The first time Dean Winchester kissed him, it felt like the world tilted out of place and back again.

Adrenaline soaked his thoughts, sharpening them, the clarity making his hands steady as the hunt ended. Castiel had a knife to his throat before a gunshot rang out and the ghoul dropped, brain matter spraying.

"Cas--" Dean chokes out, his eyes fixated on the thin line cut into his flesh. 

"Dean, I'm okay, I--"

In a few strides, Dean covers the room, and it occurs to Castiel that this is not at all like the romance novels he sneaks into the Bunker, and then hands fist into his trench coat, and he's rendered immobile.

And then a mouth is on his, and something sparks in his chest. He knows what causes his reaction, knows exactly why his knees go weak and his eyes flutter shut. Automatically, he tries to return the kiss.

Emotion brims at the edges of his being, and Castiel thinks that he should be thankful that this is in a vessel. Although his three heads don't have human lips, so a kiss would be out of the question anyway.

It's entirely closed mouthed, although he thinks that he could combust from all that he's feeling. It's scary, and he wonders how on earth people go through their lives with such suns for emotions, brimming with power.

It ends all too soon, and Dean looks apologetic, and Castiel feels like he's had a train dropped on him. Which happened once, although now it's less painful.

"Um--" Dean begins, cutting himself off before he starts. Castiel feels an unhappy sensation in his chest.

Sam, bless his stupid, interfering soul, takes the opportunity to burst in. He glances between the two in the room, then down to the dead ghoul on the floor.

It's a grisly sight, Castiel is sure. When he looks down, he sees the pool of blood. The back of the skull has been blasted away, leaving a crater. Like some demented flower, the skin and muscle have peeled away in petal-like shapes.

He's accustomed to sights such as this. He has dropped down into battlefields, seen men blown apart and every inch of the inner pieces that make up humans. Sheer curiosity leads him to stare.

"C'mon," Sam says, breaking the silence. "Let's torch the body and go."

Forcing his eyes away from the corpse, he follows Dean and Sam out.

-.-.-

They don't talk about the kiss. They continue with their lives, and Castiel eventually figures that Dean was so caught up in the moment he forgot himself.

There is the niggling suspicion that had it been an outburst of emotion, Dean would have ended it. He's tempted to whisk Dean away and just kiss him again, just to see what would happen.

He takes time to learn about angels, if for a moment. The Bunker is stacked with books on the subject.

After about three days of reading non stop, he comes to a realization that makes him chortle with the ridiculousness of it. 

God had made the angels like a child made up superheroes. Fancy, with a ton of attributes and powers. But without crucial, important things. The angels were prototypes of God's trifling with the creation of emotion, and only humans could feel so vastly.

So for all his three heads, Grace, and towering form, he still cannot match the imperfect, _burning_ stars humans called souls and it makes him giggle. 

"So much for grace," he says aloud, huffing out laughter.

-.-.-

Castiel began to read cheap romance novels out of boredom. They're garbage when it comes to plot and characters, but the emotions are there.

His favorites are the Southern ones. He likes them for the same reason Dean adores Dr. Sexy. They're fun, albeit less than worthy of praise. The term guilty pleasure comes to mind.

Although Dr. Sexy wasn't quite as concerning to his morality.

"Dean," he says one day, holding up a copy of _Southern Winds,_ "why do these novels have no consent?"

Dean stares at him over the cup of coffee in his hand. "Uh, what?"

" _Joseph stares hungrily at Annabelle, his grey eyes piercing her through with_ _lust_." He reads. " _She shivers beneath his gaze as he stalks forward. Moonlight ignites his blonde locks, and she feels faint with the emotion in her throat._

" _With one large, powerful_ _hand, he grasps her waist. The mouth she had once kissed dips down to her collarbone, and teeth graze her skin. His other palm slides up her dress and between her thighs. She shudders with the realization that she wasn't wearing underwear. Cupping her sex, he holds her against him as his fingers slide into her--_ "

"Cas!" Dean interrupts, looking slightly alarmed, his eyes blown wide, pupils dilated. His fingers tightly grip the mug, and Castiel worries he'll break it. 

"Why doesn't he ask permission?" he asks, concerned, although he notes that Dean seems to be thinking about something. Something he apparently feels guilty about, although Castiel refuses to pry.

"It's a novel, Cas," Dean says, exasperated. 

"That isn't right!"

"Okay," Dean says, placating. "I know, it sucks, but what are you gonna do?"

Castiel resolves to ask if he ever is to try and kiss Dean. He tosses _Southern Winds_ in the trash.

He doesn't notice Dean pick up the novel, looking at it appreciatively.

-.-.-

Sam goes off to Bobby's in order to help him with something. Dean almost went too, but Bobby had insisted that he just needed Sam, and that Dean would just be a nuisance.

Dean sulks, and Castiel feels bad for him (another human emotion). So he asks to watch a movie with him, because he knows Dean likes movies and it might cheer him up,

"Seriously?" Dean asks. "Where'd this come from?" 

Castiel merely shrugs, and Dean grins.

Dean digs out a copy of _Indiana Jones_ , and the two settle in on a couch. For once, Castiel has opted to wear less formal clothes, and now he's wearing sweats and an old worn t shirt. Dean's wearing the same.

Although they start out on the ends, they gradually move closer, until they're pressed together, side to side.

When the movie ends, there's an underlying tension between them.

Castiel turns to look at Dean, and then they're barely a breath apart. Something thick is in his throat. His mouth moves before he thinks.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, small and broken, because he is almost certain Dean will refuse.

But then Dean nods, and before he knows it, they're kissing, and it feels like the world is spinning and Dean is the only solid thing around. 

He opens his mouth to breathe, and a tongue slides against his, hot and slick. Somewhere along the way, he's wrapped his arms around Dean, who presses him onto his back.

Automatically, his legs part to let Dean in, and warmth shoots through him, an electric hum against his skin.

When Dean settles between his thighs, pleasure zips up his body, and instinctively, he arches his back, hips bucking. Dean presses down, chuckling low, and then they're rutting against each other, their tongues tangling.

Dean pulls away to catch his breath, seemingly thinking over things. Castiel misses the contact. 

"Bedroom," Dean growls, and Castiel agrees. They get off the couch, stumbling back to the bedroom Dean has claimed as his own. Halfway there, Dean crowds him against a wall, gripping his hips and grinding them together. Castiel holds him tightly, and fleetingly thinks that this is a very good kiss.

"Glad you think so," Dean says and Castiel realizes he's spoken aloud. 

When they finally make it to the bedroom, Dean slows down. He's no longer frantic, his movement deliberate as he shucks his shirt and pants, leaving boxers. 

Castiel thinks he might have lost his breath. 

Slowly, Dean pulls off Castiel's clothing, until they're both nearly naked. His body thrumming, Castiel holds Dean's face in his palms and kisses him slowly. It seems the romance novels are good for something after all, because when he palms Dean's erection, the other groans lowly, and Castiel thanks the author for the trick.

"We don't have to go further, if you don't want to," Dean says, nervous. 

"I want to," Castiel says, and he means it with his whole being.

"Good," Dean replies, relieved. Then he pushes Castiel back on the bed, gently.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Castiel asks, reaching forward to cup the other's jaw.

"Yeah," Dean says softly. Then, softer: "I'm just really lucky."

Castiel smiles at him tenderly, which seems to snap Dean from his daze. The blond man stalks forward, smoothly, and a thrill races up Castiel's spine.

Arms cage him in, and Dean leans forward to lightly press a kiss to his neck. A shiver hits him because of the warm breath, and he sighs.

"Lie back," Dean says gently, and he cooperates, closing his eyes.

Warm air ghosts across his hipbones, and he sighs with pleasure as kisses are laid on his skin, following the border of his waistband.

A tongue traces lightly, almost teasingly, and fingers pull his boxers down slightly, exposing the tops of his thighs. On instinct, he reaches out, his fingers tangling in hair. He cards them through and Dean sucks a bruise into his skin.

It's intense, and his whole body is a live wire. After an eternity of torturous pleasure, he's finally completely unclothed.

A hand grasps his cock, and Castiel arches into it, gasping, and it is entirely without preamble when Dean swallows him down.

He notes wryly that there are so many amazing ways to kiss, before Dean starts to move and he's robbed of sentient thought.

Grabbing Dean's free hand, he entwines their fingers as he loses his mind. There's a building sensation, but all too soon, Dean pulls off and Castiel whines at the loss.

Then it occurs to him that he can return the favor.

"Dean," Castiel says seriously, making the other look up, "please lie down."

"Well, if you insist, Cas," Dean grins, moving so he's lying down. He gestures at himself. "I'm all yours."

Hyperaware of his own inexperience, Castiel contents himself with exploring the gorgeous body before him.

He lays kisses up and down Dean's neck, roaming his hands everywhere he can reach. He learns that Dean goes pliant whenever he receives kisses on his shoulders, and that he likes when Castiel nips at his skin.

He divests Dean of his clothing, and when he licks a line up his cock, there's a gasp. Encouraged, he kept going, licking and sucking and generally doing his best to see how many noises he could pull from Dean's mouth.

"Cas," Dean gasps out, voice wrecked, "please let me fuck you."

Castiel blinks. Then he mulls it over. "Okay. I trust you."

Dean smiles, and he reaches over to a bedside table, retrieving lube and a condom. Gently, he pushes down the other.

"Are you ready?" he asks. 

He is.

Dean hisses when he slides into him, and Castiel wonders how he went this long without combusting from his adoration from Dean.

Eventually, Dean pulls him upright, leaning against the headboard while hands grip his hips and he messily strokes himself to orgasm. He learns about another sort of kiss, where they come together, hot and open mouthed and sharing the same breath.

Dean swallows his cry and he bites Castiel's shoulder as they rock through the waves together.

-.-.-

Over the course of the next few days, Castiel learns of more types of kisses.

Soft, short ones, like the one Dean gave him over breakfast, flavored with coffee.

Naked, breathless ones where they deflower the map table. Long, slow makeouts on a couch while a movie plays. Kisses on the ear and the back of the neck. Kisses in the shower, and so many others he almost can't name them all. 

When Sam returns, he gives them a sly thumbs up and makes a phone call to Bobby.

Castiel is content, and a look at a laughing Dean proves his choice was the right one.

Sipping his cocoa, he pads over to investigate what a cocoa flavored kiss is like.

(Spoiler alert, as Dean would say. It's great.)


End file.
